The Light of The Lonely Star
by MiladyGirl
Summary: Miranda and Andy meet again after a couple of years. Miranda has a request. Eventual Mirandy.
1. Chapter 1

Whenever I prove to people around me that I truly am that Dragon Lady my rumour says I am, I also prove to myself that I am unlovable. Out of reach. A lonely star, shining bright high above all the others, a lonely star in the cold and empty skies. It's not a habit of mine to show anything but that light. Looks can be deceiving. And who would find it worthwhile to try and get behind them, when all they're being met with are traps, commands and insults?

Andrea survived my traps, my commands and my insults. I practically showered her with offences, and she got past them all. She didn't walk out on me because of any insult; she walked out on me because of the only compliment I ever gave. In her view, that compliment was the one insult Andrea Sachs could not live with.

_You remind me of myself. _

I wanted to tell her by using only those words, how much I admired her, what an amazing future she was headed for if only she decided to, what a special and strong person she is. I believed she would pick up from that comment – the way she seemed to pick up everything unspoken – that I cared for her.

I forgot one thing. Andrea hadn't put her heart up for sale yet. She saw beneath the public me into the person, the Miranda behind the fashion queen, a lonely woman whose money and power could not buy her happiness, and decided that she didn't want my poison to seep into her gentle nature and destroy it. Andrea decided that she wanted to keep her heart, no matter how many times it could be broken if she kept wearing it on her sleeve. She left because turning into me was the worst thing she could think of. Not an award but a punishment.

In reality, Andrea Sachs walked out on me because she knew what she really wanted and wasn't afraid to sacrifice anything to go after it. Therein lays the irony, because she _is_ turning into me. Only she seems to be a much stronger person, because she is not going to compromise with her sense of self. Andrea is capable of something I never was – balance. She can balance self-confidence and kindness. She doesn't have to scare people to get her way; she gets her way by making them _want_ to help her. She gets respect by being sympathetic – I am not respected, I am feared and hated. Those are not the same things.

I see her several times a week as she walks by outside. I have changed my schedule to be able to catch a glimpse of her as often as possible. She looks genuinely happy, that spark in her Bambi eyes that I nearly smothered has returned, she radiates confidence and contentment. She never developed any true sense of fashion, but it is better than it was before Runway, thank God. Sometimes I get an impulse to talk to her, find out how she's doing, but that wouldn't be very Miranda of me, now, would it?

I read all of her articles and she is a truly talented writer. I don't believe she's going to write articles for news magazines for very long, though. I believe the young woman who walks by my car right this moment is going to become a published author. And I wonder if the assistant I'll be having when that occurs, will be able to get me a manuscript of that book before it's published. I have my doubts about that. None of the girls after Andrea could do what she did. No one ever will. She was a glitch in my organization, the dark horse I never would've bet on if I hadn't been…

Been what? Momentarily out of my senses? That must have been it. I never explain myself to anyone, but this particular cause of action is something I can't even explain to myself.

Nor is this thing I am about to do now.


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda tore the door open and walked straight out into the traffic, hardly noticing the cars. She only had eyes for the young, tall brunette walking briskly towards the building on the other side of the street. Miranda Priestly never raised her voice, but she didn't have to. It carried clearly through the New York city noise and reached Andy's ears.

"Andrea".

_Not a snowball's chance in hell_, Andy thought. _I'm_ _imagining voices, that's all there is to it. Some strange memory hiccup, because I'm right outside that building where I spent…_

"Andrea".

Andy reluctantly turned around, pulled her coat closer around her as if to shield herself from the cold of the approaching Snow Queen, and simply stared. It was indeed Miranda, and she looked as stunning as ever in a strict, very elegant pinstripe suit, a white blouse and high heels. It was Armani, Chanel and Prada, Andy decided from only a quick glance and nearly snorted at herself. Yeah, that was useful to remember those things. Really.

"Miranda", she said.

"How attentive of you to remember my name", Miranda replied dryly.

"What do you want, Miranda? Scalding hot coffee? An unpublished manuscript? Sorry, can't help you. I don't work for you anymore, do _you_ remember _that_?"

She could hardly understand that she, Andy Sachs, was blurting out these things to Miranda Priestly, of all people, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Miranda didn't make any indication at replying, she merely stood still looking at Andy. Looking, not glaring. Andy was on the verge of starting to shout.

"Did you know that I spent months in therapy after Paris, and I've had nightmares about you, about the way you pronounce my name, and _today_, of all days possible, when I've actually had a good night's sleep without any nightmares, I hear your voice. Saying my name. I turn around, and I look into your eyes. What are you trying to do to me, Miranda? Make me commit suicide?"

_Oh my God_, Miranda thought. _I hurt her that much_? She felt sick to her stomach, pondering what this young woman saw when she looked at her. A monster. A devil wearing Prada.

"Don't be absurd Andrea, only cowards take that way out. You are many things, but you're not a coward".

"Really? And how would you know?"

"May I remind you of a certain thing that happened in Paris? You walked away from me. You had invested a lot in your career, and you knew I wasn't only capable of helping you get wherever you wanted to be; I also had the power to destroy you completely. I could have made sure you never worked in New York ever again. I could have made sure your only choice was to go back to Cincinnati to live with your parents".

"Yet you didn't".

"That's not the point I'm trying to make. Let me finish. You knew all those things. And yet you chose to leave. That's not cowardly. That is brave". Miranda snorted. "Don't tell anyone I said so, though, or the entire staff at Runway will leave within the day, claiming they're brave to do so". She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Escaping the dragon's breath".

Andy couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I don't know what you're getting at", she mumbled.

"Of course not, seeing as I'm not yet finished. Which I won't be unless you stop interrupting me".

"Okay", Andy mumbled and fiddled with the handle of her handbag.

"I know you left because you didn't want to turn into me. I forgot. I forgot that you are different. I thought I was saying something nice. Which only proves my point; compliments are rather useless".

"Okay. Thank you, Miranda, for running after me, two years later, when I've finally started to heal from the Miranda Priestly Post Traumatic Stress, acting out of character to explain something that on the whole means nothing to me anymore".

"Andrea".

"I have an article to finish. And I'm sure you have someone to insult, so don't let me take up any more of your time".

"Andrea".

_Does she have to say my name that way? It scares me. It scares me that I want her to keep saying it. Whispering it. _Whimpering_ it. Oh God, if she only knew the nature of those nightmares. _

Perhaps Miranda could read something of it from Andy's eyes, because she took a step closer.

"You are acting rather out of character yourself at the moment. Also, if it truly means nothing to you, why are you still standing here?"

"I-I…"

Miranda smirked.

"I seem to recall you always stutter when you're nervous. Why do I still make you nervous, if bygones are bygones?"

_Because I want to kiss you, and I don't want to want it._

For a moment she thought she had uttered the words out loud, but Miranda's face hadn't changed.

"Come inside with me", Miranda urged, nodding towards the Elias Clarke building. "It's freezing and I don't want to catch my death out here".

"No, I suppose you'd rather die in your office. That way you could haunt the corridors of Runway forever, scaring everyone in there till the end of time".

"I must admit the thought is tempting, however I do not believe in ghosts", Miranda replied, slightly amused by the young woman. Oh, she was rude alright, but in a way it was… refreshing, to talk to someone who wasn't crawling on the floor for her. "The matters I would like to discuss are somewhat more pragmatic".

"What matters?"

_Uh-huh, got your attention now, don't I?_ Miranda thought, the corner of her mouth twitching in something that wasn't quite a smile. Not responding, she turned and walked. It was a shot in the dark, but Miranda Priestly had a good aim. Most of the time.

"Miranda?"

Miranda didn't have to turn around to know Andy was scrambling after her. She waited until the young woman was just one step behind before saying; "I'm looking for a decent writer".

"Writer?" Andy nearly screamed. "What for?"

"Why do you keep throwing these imbecile questions at me, when I just told you I _wanted_ to discuss it… only inside. Surely you're not so impatient you cannot wait another few minutes?"

"I shouldn't".

"Perhaps not". Miranda shrugged. "You can always choose to walk away". She paused. "Again".

_And perhaps it would be the best for her if she does_, Miranda thought. _If she does, at least she'll heal, although it'll take longer than it would have if I hadn't approached her today. She'll turn out fine in the end. But if she agrees to this… she might get even more hurt. That's what I do. I hurt people. If I want to or not._

"We all make our own choices. And in the end we're all responsible for the choices we make, too".

"I don't understand", Andy said.

"Why am I not surprised?", she scoffed and Andy flinched. Miranda's face remained calm, but inside, she slapped herself.

_Come on Miranda, why can't you stop hurting her for one second? Is that hole inside of you really so hungry you must feed it with the tears of every person that comes in your way?_

Yes. It was. La Priestly was the human equivalent of a black hole, she was well aware of it, and yet… Andrea seemed to be able to fill that emptiness. Her presence seemed to pull Miranda in, and the more the older woman wanted to let go, the harder her grasp on her façade became.

"Therapy, now?" she said in a softer tone. "Did you receive a diagnose? Other than Miranda Priestly Post Traumatic Stress, which I am sure is a rather common diagnose in New York".

Andy bit her lip. Was Miranda making small talk – unheard of - or was she out to find more hurtful things to use?

"The Stockholm Syndrome".

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"The _Stockholm Syndrome_?" she couldn't keep her surprise out of her voice.

"It's when…"

"I _know_ what it is", Miranda snapped. "It's when prisoners take sides for their captivators. Didn't you just tell me you had nightmares about me? Doesn't sound like you're taking my side at all".

"It's complicated", Andy admitted. "You should know, though, that I have never, not once, attacked you. I have actually defended you".

"And what, if I may ask, sparked such a loyalty in you?"

She sounded contemptuous but was truly curious. Nobody took her side unless they were afraid of her, but Andy didn't seem at all afraid anymore.

_Because I'm in love with you_, Andy thought. A small smile tickled the corners of her mouth and she pushed it away. The smile as well as the thought of telling. Miranda would never understand.

"I guess I could understand in some way why you did the things you did. Although I'll never know why you'd want to be such a fuckin-"

"_Language_!" Miranda spat and made a vague, floating gesture with one hand in the air. "Honestly, Andrea, I know you are talented with words, how come you don't seem to be able to _speak_ coherently and eloquently?"

Andy's jaw dropped. Did Miranda just _accidentally_ give her a real compliment?

"Miranda…" Andy felt as if she was getting drunk, and wondered for a second just what they had put in her coffee this morning. "Did you just give me a compliment?"

Miranda looked horrified. That was not in the plan.

"If I did, it was by accident", she cut her off.

"I don't care if it's written, designed, rehearsed and choreographed, it was a _compliment_".

Miranda sighed, and a blush crept up her cheeks and painted them with roses in an escalating tone of burgundy.

"I liked it", Andy said. "I always like it better if someone compliments my writing rather than my looks. I know I have talent. I'm intelligent. I like to be complimented on those things rather than how I look".

"I understand, because since you left Runway I can't possibly compliment your looks. Not that I ever did".

"You must admit that Nigel did a pretty good job on me, though?"

"I must admit to no such thing".

Miranda offered the younger woman the most intimidating glare she could muster, but Andy was more giddy and excited than scared and anxious as she followed Miranda into the corridors of Runaway.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you everyone so much for your reviews and comments, I appreciate it so much! :D This is just a short update for the weeked, but there will be more soon. :)

As they headed towards Miranda's office, Emily met them. She gave Andy a surprised and not particularly content look but didn't have time to comment on her presence, because Miranda started firing off commands right away.

"Call the Ritz and tell them no, if they don't offer me the presidential suite I will not stay there, then call Hilton and book their presidential suite, call my ex-husband and tell him to pick up the girls at five after their riding lesson, then call my lawyer and tell him I need to reschedule our appointment to ten not eleven… and Emily, get that useless second assistant a map, she's supposed to have my Starbucks waiting and I just walked right by her in the foyer, I could have sworn she forgot which way is up. That's all".

"The girls are riding now?" Andy whispered to Emily.

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Don't ask. What are you doing here anyway?" she hissed. Andy shook her head and shrugged.

"Emily, _that's all_", Miranda growled, and Emily darted out of sight.

Andy hesitantly followed into Miranda's office and stood just inside the doors while Miranda sat down in her chair, checking something on her BlackBerry and shook her head at it.

"Sit", she said.

"Oh… okay" Andy replied, all her previous annoyance drained out of her from the unexpectedness at being back in here. Miranda looked at her over her glasses. Andy felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine as she noticed her former boss's eyes lingered a bit too long at her cleavage, and seemingly unaware of it also let her tongue slide across her lips for a moment.

"Now", Miranda said after this inspection, "I've read most of your articles, including those you write under the pen name Mirabelle Preston. Really Andrea, your lack of imagination is embarrassing".

Andy blushed. Mirabelle Preston was a pseudonym she used when writing for the gay press. She had never thought Miranda would read anything by her, least of all tracking her down and read those things.

"None of the things you've written are too awful. Especially not the things you write under that name. It may surprise you to know that I do keep up to date with these matters as well. You see, you don't have to work in fashion industry to be gay. You don't have to be gay to work in fashion industry. One combination that simply does not work, however, is working in fashion industry and be homophobic. In fact, if you do some research, you will find that I have defended the gay community many times over the years. In my own way, of course".

Miranda pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

"And _why_ do I explain that to you?"

"I… I don't…"

"That wasn't a question. Not one aimed at you, in any case", she dismissed the whole subject and folded her hands together, but Andy's head was spinning. Now that she was thinking about it, she could remember a whole bunch of events where Miranda had in fact – and in her own way, of course – defended the gay community. For example, she refused to refer to the male companions of her gay associates as "partners", or even worse "special friends", not if the relationship was established. She bluntly referred to them as their "husbands". Andy realized that this was indeed Miranda's way of taking a political stand for same-sex marriage, but she still failed to see how that could have anything to do with her.

_Oh, my, God. _

"Enlighten me", Miranda urged.

"I'm sorry?"

"A rather intriguing look came over your face. I would not go so far as to call it an eureka look, but it certainly had similarities. So, enlighten me".

"Oh, nothing. A thought just crossed my mind".

"Must've been a long and lonely journey", Miranda remarked.

"Look, Miranda, I just really want to know what on earth I am doing here. I'm late for my job – that's right, my job, which is no longer standing here and listening to you spit your nasty acid on everyone near you – and I fail to see why you would summon me from the street only to muse about your thoughts on the gay community, and…"

Her words, not to mention courage, finally failed her and she just shrugged.

"I already told you. I need a decent writer".

"For _what_?"

"Declawing cats. Make strawberry jam. Predict the pollen forecasts for the next summer. Do pray tell, what does a writer do?"

"Um, write?"

"That's accurate. So, I guess that would mean that I look for a decent writer to… write something, could that be it?"

"So, you want me to write…"

"My memoires".


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you everyone for your comments! It makes all the difference in the world to write for an audience that appreciates it. :D I hope you're gonna like this chapter as well.

The song/musical that Miranda comes to think about is "Heaven Help My Heart" from Chess. Obviously, that doesn't belong to me either.

* * *

"Your memoires?" Andy echoed. "Your _memoires_?"

"You sound like a broken record. I believe I spoke in plain English, do tell me what you did not understand", Miranda said while looking through one of the photo spreads that was seated on her desk. "Good grief, this is hideous. Whoever told them to use a model who cannot pose? Oh, _Emily_?"

She still didn't raise her voice but Emily came running as if she had been yelling so loud her voice had shattered the glass doors.

"Yes, Miranda", Emily panted.

"Perhaps that second assistant wasn't hearing me right when I said I wanted my Starbucks waiting. Did she believe I said I wanted to _wait_ for my Starbucks, do you think that's how it is Emily?"

Emily didn't have to take the brunt from this oncoming eruption of Mount Miranda, since the unfortunate new assistant just entered the office with a Starbucks cup. Miranda gave her that infamous shark smile as the blonde put down the cup on her desk.

"Do you have a cognitive damage or impaired hearing? Is that it? Or are you simply so terrifyingly incompetent you cannot even manage to get me my coffee in time?"

"I-I thought you said you'd be here at ten…"

"She's always fifteen minutes early" Emily and Andrea muttered in one voice and exchanged looks that were close to amused.

"Don't bore me with explanations for your ineptitude", Miranda said, sipping her coffee, grimaced and stared the young, frightened new assistant down. The young woman was visibly shaking when Miranda finally began to speak, in a voice so low it was close to inaudible.

"Not only is this cold, it is also the wrong blend. Is it so much to ask? Am I reaching for the stars, to ask that my assistant brings me hot coffee when I ask for it to be here?"

The assistant's eyes were starting to fill with tears. Andy hoped she wouldn't start explaining herself, knowing from experience that it would only make matters worse.

"Get me a new one. And get it right. That's all", Miranda spat after eyeing the girl long enough to make her feel like the ugliest and most useless creature on the face of the earth. Viewing this happen to someone else, Andy suddenly understood a great deal about Miranda's personality. Everyone use against others the very weapon that would hurt themselves the worst. Miranda was afraid of being viewed with condescension. This she told the entire world every single day by behaving the way she did.

"I can get you your coffee", Andy heard herself say. Miranda tilted her head to the side and almost smiled. Encouraged, Andy smiled broadly. "Non-fat skim latte, scalding hot".

"Well, at least your memory seems to have survived that brain-dead journalistic work you do", Miranda offered icily, but her tone was only a cover-up for the strong, nearly overwhelming feelings of affection that threatened to drown her. She felt touched. Andrea may not remember a thing about fashion or Runway, but she still remembered the way Miranda wanted her coffee. It was… endearing.

"I'll be right back", Andy said and turned around, and winking at Emily, who mouthed a relieved "thank you", as Miranda's temper seemed to have cooled down rather quick thanks to Andy.

"That's all", Miranda dismissed Emily, who scurried out into the room where her new co-worker was staring at her computer, tears streaming down her face. Emily leaned over her. "Never, ever, ever keep Miranda waiting. Never get her orders wrong. And for the love of all things holy, never talk back to her when you've screwed up!" she hissed. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank God Andy was here!"

"Andy?" the newly-shredded girl asked in a tiny voice. "Who's Andy?"

"She had your job over two years ago. She fucked up royally in the end, leaving Miranda without an assistant in Paris, but prior to that…" Emily trailed off and rolled her eyes. "She's the only assistant Miranda ever, _ever_ shared an elevator with, and not just once. I think she likes her".

"Miranda is capable of liking _anyone_?" the blonde whispered.

"Well, she's never gonna like _you_, but…", Emily shrugged and froze when Miranda's voice drifted out from the office. "Emily…"

"Yes Miranda!"

"Find Nigel. These photos have to be reshot".

_I honestly have no idea how Miranda does it_, Andy thought when she re-entered the office with a scorching Starbucks cup in her hand, moving it from one hand to the other to avoid getting blisters from the heat. _She must have a lead-clad throat to be able to drink a liquid this hot without so much as having her eyes watering_. Then again, considering the fire she was used to breathe, being the Dragon Lady, blister-inducing hot coffee probably was nothing. _Oh, but can she handle something even hotter_? Andy thought to herself and felt a smirk form on her lips – a smirk so diabolic it would have suited the facial features of her former boss better than it did hers.

"Wipe that smug grin off your face, Andrea", the former boss in question snapped as Andy stepped up to her desk. She all but snatched the cup from Andy's hand and took a deep gulp of the near-blistering coffee before exhaling slowly. Andy almost expected to see smoke coming out of her nostrils. "I take it you have decided to take me up on my offer".

"Offer?" Andy couldn't help herself. She laughed a little. "It sounded to me like it was a request rather than an offer".

For a split second, there was something in Miranda's face that Andy had never seen before. Uncertainty. But then it was replaced by solemn and rigid tranquillity, mixed with a tad of annoyed impatience. The usual Miranda mask.

"Don't be absurd. It would be the perfect career move for you. The only authorized biography about the infamous Silver Witch of the Elias Clarke. _Real Life Cruella De Vil Tells All_. It would be a bestseller and you would no longer have to work at that… _rag_".

"Miranda… I appreciate that you have confidence in me writing your biography, but I haven't accepted yet. I don't know if I should. I can't afford more therapy at the moment", she said, not quite sure if she intended to make a joke or if she was dead serious. She was painfully torn between emotions; her common sense telling her she was mad to even consider the thought – Miranda Priestly had nearly destroyed her, and for more reasons than her obvious malevolence. Andy was, when the chips were down, madly in love with a woman she didn't believe could harbour warmer emotions than contempt for anyone save for her twins. Letting Miranda regain that hold of her that Andy had fought so hard to free herself from, that would only lead to demise. And still… this was her only chance to get to know the beautiful albeit frightening woman before her. Miranda would have to tell Andy her life's story. And Andy wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it. She yearned to hear Miranda's soft, low, damned sexy voice describe her greatest triumphs in her own words. Miranda never bragged, Andy realized. She viciously attacked others incompetence, but she never actually bragged about her own talent. Whenever she said anything about her accomplishments, it was in a businesslike tone.

"The money you will doubtlessly make from it will pay therapy for many years to come, should you choose to be in need of it", Miranda said, looking up at Andy over her glasses. It could have been the sunshine reflecting in her glasses, but it looked like… she had a twinkle in her eye. An amused, bordering on kind, twinkle. Andy's knees grew weak and she knew she had lost the battle of her own will. She nodded meekly.

"You're right. Yes, Miranda. I'll write this for you. When do you suggest we start?"

"Tomorrow night. I'll expect you at my townhouse at eight pm. The girls are with their father, so we won't be interrupted".

At this, Andy felt butterflies in her stomach.

"I'll order a light dinner. And I trust you bring…" she shook her hands vaguely in Andy's direction "…whatever it is you writers need".

It was clear that Miranda's interest in the conversation was starting to fade, so Andy nodded and smiled. "Absolutely. I'll see you tomorrow then, Miranda".

"Mm-hmm. That's all", Miranda finished and looked down at the photo spread on her desk to really demonstrate that she was done talking to Andy.

Andy didn't know it, but Miranda eyed her all the way until she stepped into the elevator. The older woman had taken off her glasses and licked her lips contemplatively as her glances caressed Andy's every curve. The line of a song from some old musical came forward in Miranda's mind.

_If it were love I would give that love every second I have… and I do._

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes at herself.

_Foolish old woman, are you really going to do this to yourself? This has the potential of backfiring so profoundly you won't even know what hit you. Page Six would be delighted. _

_It's Andrea. If I can't trust her, I can't trust anyone._

_You _can't_ trust anyone. That's why you keep to yourself. That's why you only rely on yourself. _

"You wished to see me".

Nigel stood in the doorway, carrying a folder. She wondered how long he had been standing there, but refrained from asking. Instead she pointed to the photo spread, tapping it with one perfectly manicured nail, and sighed.

"Is it an even remote possibility to find _one_ model for the Fifty is Nifty feature that does not look like Sarah Palin? I cannot think of anyone _less_ nifty than that woman".


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm _so_ flattered that people want to read this! Thank you everyone so much for your comments! Now, this chapter still doesn't reveal any secrets, since it's about the slightly awkward dinner at Miranda's place. I swear I was going to cut that short and get to the talks, but these two had a different idea. Also, I know they're acting strange - especially Miranda. The only way I can explain it is... well, don't we all act strange when we're having emotions we don't know how to understand? :P Also, I'm working on next part. Promise. ;)

* * *

Andy was standing outside Miranda's place, hesitating. She had been standing there for at least ten minutes now, weighing pros and cons, arguing with herself and pacing back and forth. She had started to mount the stairs only to turn around on at least two occasions. She really had to make up her mind. Now.

_I'm leaving_, Andy decided.

Miranda had been standing in the shadows by the window, watching her ever since the cab arrived. She almost didn't dare breathing for fear of exposing herself, scaring the younger woman into running away. Again. _I really have a great record of making people run away from me_, she thought and looked down at her hands. She was surprised to see that they were trembling slightly. Her palms felt sweaty, even. Her heart was racing in her chest and when Andy turned and started to leave, it stopped. It literally stopped. Miranda gasped for air, certain she would either suffer a heart attack – oh, but it _was_ under attack, alright, the girl outside her door was unknowingly attacking her heart something awful – or faint. That song that had been bugging her was back on her brain, too.

…_and what I'm feeling now has no easy explanations, reason plays no part… heaven help my heart. _

"Heaven help my heart", Miranda whispered to herself, stepped forward and tore the front door open.

"Well now, Andrea, are you planning on wearing down your shoes completely, or have you simply forgotten how to climb a flight of stairs?"

Her tone was sarcastically amused, and nobody could tell she was on the verge of tears. If there was one thing Miranda Priestly had always been good at, it was hiding her real emotions.

_Oh I wish she didn't say my name that way_, Andy thought, pondered making a run for it but surrendered to the magic that was the La Priestly charisma. It was like being pulled in – she felt like a moth drawn to a light. A blinding light.

"Good evening, Miranda", Andy managed, feeling Miranda's eyes inspecting her intensely. But it didn't feel uncomfortable as it usually did. The smile Miranda gave her even seemed sincere, and it was simply breathtaking.

"Good evening, Andrea", she replied, and noticed the young woman shivering a little when she said her name. A good sign or a bad? She recalled Andy saying that she had been having nightmares about Miranda saying her name, and her heart sank. Well. She did live on hope, she wasn't going to lose it yet. "I was just going to pour up the wine".

_She's doing that herself_? Andy thought. Miranda seemed to read her mind as she immediately replied:

"My housekeeper has the viral plague. At least that's what it sounded like. I sent her home yesterday; I'm not that very interested in catching the flu".

"Got it", Andy said, and Miranda gave her a sharp glance, somehow suspecting that the younger woman was in some way trying to poke fun. When Andy's face showed no sign of it, Miranda relaxed a little.

"We're having chilli prawns, salad and pain riche", Miranda said, leading the way into the kitchen. "I thought since it's just the two of us, we can eat at the kitchen table. Truth to tell, I'm not very fond of eating in the dinner room. It's for parties".

"Oh, kitchen is fine. I usually eat on the couch by the TV", Andy said, and blushed. _Yeah, way to sound mature_, she thought, mentally whacking herself over the head. "Um, I mean…"

"Yes, I'd imagine you do", Miranda said and then shook her head. "That came out the wrong way. I meant that in a small apartment you don't have much of a choice". She closed her eyes and mouthed a curse. "That sounded even worse. I'm sorry".

"Don't worry about it. Caught the meaning", Andy replied and sipped her wine to hide her utter confusion about Miranda apologizing. As the taste of the wine hit her taste buds she moaned in delight, Miranda's strange behaviour momentarily pushed aside if not forgotten. "Mm, this is heaven".

Miranda watched as a look of almost orgasmic enjoyment flew across Andy's face, and she felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach. She took a sip from her own glass and said:

"I wouldn't call it heaven, it's just a wine. But it is… satisfactory".

"So there _are_ things that can satisfy you, Miranda?" Andy said without thinking and clasped her free hand across her mouth. _Oh I'm screwing up this so bad, this is such a bad idea, bad idea, bad idea…_

"Some things do, yes", Miranda said evenly, refusing to blush or even smile, although her body tried to do both. "I am still human, you know. If you don't remove that hand from your mouth you won't be able to eat", she added.

"Right", Andy said and resisted an urge to empty her glass in one drag. Miranda's perfume seemed to fill her entire head with its sweet, lovely scent, making her dizzy. "Do we start with the job right away?"

"I don't like speaking with my mouth full, so no, Andrea, we eat first, and then talk", Miranda said slowly, as if speaking to a little child.

"Yeah. Sure, of course", Andy replied, inwardly cursing herself for behaving like a moron. Had Miranda always made her this nervous? Yes. Yes, she had. From the beginning it was sheer fright, later from attraction, and now from… _something_.

Miranda didn't appreciate conflicting emotions. It went against her nature as well as everything she believed in. When too many contrasting emotions competed within her, she'd lock them up and have them fight with each other until none but one remained. That emotion was the one she would act on. And since Miranda had many years of anger stashed up inside her, anger was most often the winner. She was angry with Andy for making her feel this way, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly what "this way" was. At the same moment she wanted to slap Andy's face, unable to stand her insecurity and her infuriating wish to be _kind_, as if kindness had ever rewarded anyone, she also wanted to caress that silky soft cheek. She wanted to push Andy away and verbally slice the girl into pieces as she left, and at the same time she desperately wanted to pull Andy close, hold her tight, and _let_ the girl be kind to her. Take what she so kindly offered. Give her heart in return.

"So, um… how are the girls?" Andy asked, completely forgetting what Miranda had just said – eat in silence. But she was willing to forgive this slip because Andy sounded genuinely interested.

"Intense", Miranda replied, emphasizing more parts of the word than Andy thought existed. "They seem intent on dying young, or kill me trying". She sipped her wine and rolled her eyes. "Once a week they climb up onto these giant horses that are but a bundle of nerves held together with the thinnest of reins…" she shuddered and trailed off.

"It's not my business, but… if it bothers you so much, why don't you just forbid it?" Andy asked gently. Miranda stiffened.

"You're right, it's not your business. And no, I won't forbid it because they… they _want_ to. There are so many things they won't be able to do because of me, because of who I am, so I'll be dead before I deny them anything I can, by _any_ means possible, let them have".

Miranda looked shell-shocked at her sudden need to explain herself.

"I see", Andy replied. "I would too, if they were mine".

"You would?"

"Of course. They're sweet girls".

"Oh please, I know perfectly well what my staff thinks of my girls. Spoiled little monsters, just smaller edition of their fire-breathing mother".

"I'm not your staff anymore, Miranda. Besides, I never thought that way about them. Yes, they played pranks on me when I delivered the Book, but they were _ten_. If you're outsmarted by ten-year-olds, you kind of deserve it. Also, the looks in their eyes when I brought the Harry Potter books were more than enough to make up for it".

"You think so?" Miranda asked, but Andy's expressive eyes had already told her yes. Beyond a doubt, yes.

"Absolutely. I like making people happy. I live for it. I'm not like you, Miranda". She fell silent, pondering if she could push her luck and continue or if what she already had said had been stupid. Miranda didn't throw a retort at her, so she went on. "I'm not happy if I hurt anyone. I can't be, that's just not who I am. I'm not like you".

"What makes you think I'm happy?" Miranda muttered in a husky voice. She cleared her throat and looked away when Andy sought her eyes.

"I…" Andy begun, but Miranda interrupted her by nodding towards her plate.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes. Thank you. It was wonderful".

"Good. I'd never want to disappoint you, Andrea", Miranda said in a dangerous voice. Sometimes she acted like a ten-year-old herself, or a moody teenager, and Andy looked at her, apprehensive, trying to figure out what to do to mend this.

"I'm sorry if I said something stupid", Andy said.

"_If_? Do tell me, have you ever opened your mouth and _not_ said anything stupid?" Miranda snapped, furious for a reason she couldn't comprehend. _Why do have to treat her like this? Why do I keep shredding her to ribbons when all I really want is for her to keep caring about me? What is _wrong_ with me? Why is it so difficult to just let _go_?_

"Well…" Andy sighed. "I don't want to upset you, which clearly I do even when I try my best not to. So maybe you should get someone else. I'm sure there are a million writers who'd die for this assignment".

"What do you want, Andrea?"

"I don't understand".

"Everybody wants something. So far you have turned down success, fame and money. What else is there for a young woman to strive for? _Love_?" She practically spat the word, her voice dripping with contempt. "Please tell me you're not one of those insufferable romantics who believe love is pink clouds and soap bubbles? Giving up her entire self for one useless man after another?"

Andy gaped as Miranda's cheeks flushed with anger. _What did I say to set her off like this? What did I do?_

Miranda waggled a finger at Andy.

"Like that fry cook, it's all his life and his wants and needs, and when you decided to have your own life, he treated you like some…"

"Miranda! Nate and I broke up just after Paris. And I haven't had any man after him. True, one in this room has given herself to one useless man after another but it's not me!"

Andy turned around and headed for the hallway, when Miranda grabbed her shoulder, hissing:

"Don't you dare turning your back on me again".

She meant for it to sound menacing, but it sounded like a plea. _Please, please don't leave me_. Miranda winced at herself, but Andy's caring, gentle heart succumbed to it. She turned to face Miranda.

"I don't want to turn my back on you. It's just that you're making this so hard for me, okay? You obviously don't want me here, and yet you won't let me leave. What do _you_ want, Miranda?"

_Yes, what do I want? I wish I knew. _

"I want another glass of wine and I want us to get on with the job".

_There. The job. A safe haven. _

Andy sighed and her eyes flicked from Miranda to the hallway and back.

"Alright", she relented. Miranda reached for the wine and Andy held up her hand in a vague protest.

"No, I…"

"It's alright. God knows you're going to need it", Miranda said and gave a silent but rather wet sniffle. For a moment Andy wondered if Miranda was coming down with that flu after all, but a quick look at the older woman's watery eyes told her otherwise. She was struggling to keep from crying. Damn it, this woman was so confusing with all her impulses and mood swings. She was like a primadonna in a constant state of PMS. It wasn't the first time Andy wondered what had happened to shape Miranda into this odd but fascinating persona, and this was her only chance of ever finding out. _Stay put_, she told herself. _Whatever reason she has to lash out at you and everyone and everything else on the planet, it might be revealed tonight. If you keep your mouth shut and stay put._

So she accepted the wine and followed Miranda upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Oh my God everyone, you are amazing! Thank you so much for your comments and encouragement, it means a lot! I read your reviews and can't keep the smile off my face. Thank you for making my writing feel worth it!

Now, a warning. ("NOW; a warning?" – Meryl reference).

This part contains a lot of angst, mentions of bad things such as rape, alcoholism, drug use, STD; although not graphic. It also has descriptions of physical abuse. I want to say that this story's Miranda is an awful role model when it comes to dealing with hurt; and if anyone reading this has been through things similar to those she talks about, _report it and seek medical treatment_.

That being said, let's move on to the story. I apologize for it on beforehand, but this was the way it turned out. There might be an epilogue chapter later on, if my muse agrees.

* * *

The couch was a lot more comfortable than Andy could've imagined. So much, in fact, she almost wanted to curl up and fall asleep with her head on Miranda's lap, with Miranda's scent tickling her nostrils, Miranda's soft voice purring words of affection into her ear. Andy bit down on her lip hard as if the pain could make her focus on the task ahead of her. Miranda raised an eyebrow as Andy winced – she had bitten down harder than she intended. Andy decided to take an example from Miranda and not explain herself. She simply met the icy gaze and smiled encouragingly. She was close to saying "Let the show begin", but that would no doubt have made Miranda close up and freeze over in an instant.

"Tell me how you want it", she said instead, closing her eyes when she heard the double meaning in the words. _Oh I'm doing so well hiding my attraction. She'll probably have me charged with sexual harassment before this evening is over. And the sad truth is that it would probably serve me right. I can't keep a straight face – no pun intended – when I think of her. _

Miranda took a deep breath through her nose, held it for a moment and then let it out, slowly, as she glimpsed behind the frozen walls of her heart, for the first time acknowledging what was in there, staring it in the eye for a brief moment before turning away and locking it up again.

_How I want it… I want it soft and slow. I want silky lips kissing me all over. I want you to touch me so gently I can barely feel it at first. That's how I want it Andrea, and I want it for the rest of my life, and I should not even let myself look at you because you are half my age and you are a woman and I have hurt you and you have hurt me and even if God graced me with your love there would be no future for us. Page Six would turn something beautiful into a laughing matter and you would leave me again. And this time I don't think I could bear it. _

"I'm going to tell you about some events in my life. Not very pleasant things. But Andrea, this time I really, really mean it; do not interrupt me". She looked into the bright fluid in her glass. "Love, Andrea, is one thing that won't occur often in what I'm about to tell you. Not because I am not capable of it – I am, unfortunately – but because it hasn't been a very prominent part of my life. There will be, however, quite a bit of violence and some, uh…" she hesitated for a split second before going on; "…sex. Do you have a problem with that?"

Andy shook her head no, but she wasn't sure she meant it.

"Very well, then. I will cut right to it. After my first big fashion event, I was raped. I will not go into details, for your sake and mine, but it was quite bad. I bled for two days and could barely move out of bed to go to the bathroom for the first day. I suspect that I might have needed to be stitched, but I could not bear to see a doctor. And I most definitely did not call the police. I was a very young girl, alone in a big city, and I was working for the mother of my rapist. I was in no condition to stare that woman in the eye and tell her all the things her son had done to me. Having to defend my choice of clothes, the height of my heels, if I had been drinking any alcohol in the evening; explain every nasty, painful detail and have the police protocol and court protocol splashed all over the media for years to come, if I had pursued the path I had already decided on. No. Do you know what that would have felt like? It would have felt like the rape still went on, and the whole fashion world would be looking. It would have felt like being raped in the spotlight on the catwalk at the news".

Andy blinked away tears, struggling not to say anything or touch the woman in front of her, no matter how badly she ached to do so. This alone explained everything. But Miranda wasn't finished.

"Of course, I should have reported it. Maybe that would have saved another young girl a lot of pain and suffering. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So I did the next best thing. Tuned it out. Convinced myself that it had happened to a different Miranda whom I no longer was".

She shrugged lightly, and shadows danced across her face as she did so.

"It worked remarkably well. Then again, I have always been good at play pretend".

"Oh, Miranda…" Andy said, wanting nothing more than to reach out her hand and offer some comfort to the woman before her. Miranda gave her the infamous death stare that she had practised to perfection, and Andy gulped and fell silent. She sat very still until Miranda looked away again.

"I gave myself up to work. It seemed that was my haven, a place where I didn't have to feel, only do. I knew I had it in me to climb, and I was eager to get so high up nobody would be able to touch me again. Literally and figuratively. I did well when it came to climbing, less so when it came to not being touched. Eventually, I got married. It was mostly because I needed someone who could accompany me on benefits and fashion events, but I was quite fond of him. I was. The physical part of our marriage wasn't the highlight for me, and in order not to think too much about it or about why I was unable to… uh…" she blushed slightly "achieve orgasm… I focused even more on my safe haven. My career. When I became pregnant I was terrified. I thought I wouldn't be able to love my children the way a proper mother should. And in spite of my husband's wishes, I was not going to quit my job – I was finally getting somewhere, my efforts were paying off and I was a rising star on the fashion sky. Some people believe success just happens, but it doesn't. You have to work very hard for it. Otherwise it's not _success_. It's… I don't know, _luck_".

She made it sound like the word tasted bad. Andy suppressed a smile, but her eyes were still full of sympathetic tears. Miranda didn't look at her, she was trailing a finger along the side of her glass and wondered, not for the first time, if this really was such a good idea. The things she had just revealed were enough to put her in the gossip columns forever, and there were still a good deal of bad things left to tell.

"One night when I was getting ready to leave for a charity dinner – I remember this very clearly – he asked me where I was going. I turned around and said; 'that you should have asked me before we got married'. Then I left. Two weeks later, so did he. We did part on relatively friendly terms because we were both more interested in our girls' wellbeing than smearing each other in the media. As for my initial fear about not being able to love my children… I couldn't have been more wrong. There hasn't been one moment's regret, doubt or questioning my love for them. Not once. I'm never 'Miranda Priestly' around them, I'm just mom. Getting outsmarted by ten-year-olds? Andrea, they outsmart me at least once a day".

She smiled at the thought of her twins, but the smile died before reaching her eyes.

"Husband number two, the notorious cheater and drug addict. In the one year we were married, we rarely saw each other, were intimate I think a total of ten times, and he gave me Chlamydia not once but twice. Rather impressive. I'm still surprised my doctor didn't hand that piece of information to the media. My husband didn't want a divorce when I brought it up; he wanted to keep living off my money although he made his own. He quickly changed his mind when I mentioned the stash of _supposedly_ China White he kept in his safe at his office. What a useless, awful, _stupid_ man! Of course, had he kept it at home or anywhere the girls could've gotten to it, I would have turned him in either way, and to hell with Page Six. As it turned out, all he ever said to the press was that I was a cold, frigid bitch married to my career rather than to him. No mistresses, hookers, sexually transmitted diseases or drugs were ever mentioned". Miranda looked up and offered a brief, humourless smile. "Oh, and for the record, I have never cheated on anyone I have been involved with, and I have never tried drugs. Unless you count Aspirin and Ambien".

She sipped some more wine, wondering what went on in Andy's head. And why was she readily handing over the weapons holding the power to destroy her completely, into the hands of a writer? A journalist. And doing it under premises of actually letting the girl _publish_ it? _I wonder if I'm losing my touch with reality_, Miranda thought, but steeled herself and went on.

"So. This will be the last tale for tonight, the clock is ticking and I should take a look at the Book as well before going to bed. I'm warning you, this is bad".

_I don't want to hear anymore_, Andy thought. _I don't. How could she have survived all of this; so little love, so little care for the _real_ Miranda, the severely wounded woman behind the frozen mask of elegance and arrogance? Oh God, please, let me make her happy, if only for a moment, if only in the smallest of ways. Please God. Please._

"Stephen". Miranda only said his name, but it was enough to make Andy shudder. Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Am I to interpret that twitching of yours as dislike of my former husband?"

"Dislike doesn't cover it", Andy muttered and looked down at her hands, vividly remembering Stephen's drunken comments about her ass and what he'd like to do with it and, equally disturbingly, what Miranda did _not_ let him do with _hers_, on quite a few occasions when she had been delivering the Book. Andy had never told anyone, mainly because she didn't want to embarrass Miranda but also because she didn't want to embarrass herself, but no, she had never liked, respected or even tolerated Stephen.

"Raging disgust paired with hatred and contempt?" Miranda suggested.

"That's more adequate", Andy replied, perfectly well aware that she probably should have just shut up. But it was difficult. She was feeling so much for this woman and now she was overwhelmed by a need to protect her, as well. But how do you protect someone who won't let you anywhere near her?

"Then we are in agreement", Miranda nodded. "I also fear him, for reasons you will soon hear. He was a mistake from the beginning; I don't know why we even got involved in the first place. I suppose it was because he was witty and I wanted someone around. Ironically, I believe part of it was that I wanted the girls to get the feeling that we were a family, a real family. I made a terrible mistake".

Miranda bit her lip, a sign of nervousness that Andy had never seen her do.

"The first time he hit me was during our wedding night. He twisted my wrist and hit me…" she motioned to her shoulder and her stomach "here and here. It was in the elevator on our way up to the hotel room. You do know I never want to ride in elevators with anyone? That's why. I feel threatened sharing a confined space with someone else, and have nowhere to escape if they'd attack me".

"But why did he…?" Andy began, then snapped her mouth shut so quickly she literally bit her tongue, remembering too late that Miranda had been very stern on not wanting to be interrupted when she told this horrible story. But Miranda merely sighed.

"Because he thought I laughed too loudly".

_Miranda? Laugh? Loud_? Those words didn't seem to have any kind of connection at all. Miranda nodded bitterly, her lips so tightly pursed they looked like a scar.

"Apparently a middle-aged woman laughing on her way to the hotel room after her own wedding, is flirting with every male person within earshot. Even if the reason she is laughing is because of a stupid joke her husband made". She paused for a moment before continuing; "My wrist and shoulder were fairly bruised. If anyone noticed – and Nigel in particular has always been quite observant of details – they most likely believed Stephen and I had celebrated our newly formed… alliance, rather violently".

Andy was shocked at every horrible detail Miranda put forward, like poisonous canapés on a twisted, hellish cocktail party. She looked down at her note pad, at the only three words written there; _Miranda Priestly memoires_, and wondered why Miranda told her this. There was no way Andy could take pride in spreading such painful secrets to every part of the celebrity-eating society.

"He never hit me in front of the girls, nor did he hit me in public – although God knows he could have, on a few occasions, drunk beyond his wits. Andrea, do you recall that night when he was going after Irv and you… saved me?"

"I do", Andy said.

"Mm. And did you know that he beat me within an inch of my life when we got home? If he had started before the door locked behind us, Roy would no doubt have helped me, but Stephen waited. I was just taking my coat off when he hit me in the stomach so hard I doubled over and staggered away, and that was probably the last thing I should have done; turning my back on him. It triggered something in him, and he launched at me, practically throwing me across the hallway. I fell on my back and it knocked the wind out of me. He kicked me so hard in the ribs I was sure they broke, but they didn't. I think. Obviously I didn't seek medical treatment for this either".

"Oh my God", Andy breathed, and the words sounded suspiciously much like a sob. Miranda ignored her, lost in the maze of awful memories.

"Lucky for me, he was so drunk his aim was worthless, so most of the kicks didn't even hit me. He kept yelling at me, calling me ugly frigid old bitch, among the least offensive names, and I somehow managed to get back on my feet and ran for the door. He got me when I was almost there, and pushed me up against the stairs. I hit my nose and it started to bleed. He laughed at me. Said he liked to see me bleed. I felt sick; I thought I was going to vomit right there, on the stairs. I managed to tear free from his grasp and run upstairs. Although I wasn't really running anymore; I felt like I was about to fall into pieces, it hurt everywhere. I made it into the bathroom and locked the door, and then I collapsed on the floor. I didn't actually throw up, which was a good thing because I was out cold on the floor for five hours straight".

She emptied her glass and fiddled with her necklace, not looking at Andy.

"I came to around four in the morning, and I knew I had to go and find out where Stephen was. I had to get my cell phone and then perhaps I would be able to summon Roy and get away from here. Something like that was my plan anyway. I wasn't thinking very clearly, I admit. So I went out of the bathroom. Armed with a vase. Do you have any idea how ridiculous and terrifying it feels like, to sneak around your own house armed with parts of the furniture, hardly daring to breathe for fear of being discovered by your own _husband_? Pray to whatever deity you believe in that you never have to find out".

Andy was struggling with herself. If Miranda had been able to suffer through this without telling anyone, surely she could stand to listen to it without breaking down? The lump in her throat and the tears filling her eyes seemed to prove otherwise. Miranda pushed on.

"I found him on the kitchen floor. I suppose he had stumbled over the chairs and passed out. That didn't bother me. What did bother me was the item he had retrieved from the kitchen drawer before that happened".

Miranda sniffed, wiped at her nose and cleared her throat.

"He held a carving knife in his hand".

At this, Andy dropped her glass. She managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor, but the amount of wine left in it – not very much, though – spilled all over the carpet. Andy got to her feet, shivering as if she had been out in the cold rain.

"I'm so sorry", she said.

"It's quite alright, Andrea, the carpet's due for a cleaning anyway", Miranda replied.

"I… I don't think I can do this. I can't write this, Miranda. I'm sorry, I can't".

"Why is that?" Miranda asked, still sitting down, her fingers still playing with her necklace. Her voice was hoarse and her façade looked strangely unsteady, but she wasn't breaking. Not yet. "Imagine the career move; the chance of being the one to reveal all my dirty secrets. Quite a revenge, don't you think so, Andrea?"

"No… yes… I don't know, I'm not looking for revenge!" Andy sobbed.

_I didn't think you were, but now I know for sure_, Miranda thought, gratefully.

"No? But surely you must think I deserved it?"

Comprehension dawned on Andy's face.

"Oh Miranda, is that what you think? That you deserved it? Any of it?"

"You don't think I did?"

"No". It was a squeak rather than a word, and the next moment Andy dissolved in tears.

_I'm so sorry for telling you this, so very sorry to put you in this position, but I had to know. I had to know if I could trust you, if you really have a heart that big and forgiving. I'm so sorry Andrea,_ Miranda thought as she rose from her place and gently slid her arms around Andy, a gesture that surprised her as much as it surprised Andy.

"But I _do_", she whispered gently into Andy's ear. "I never stopped to think about what meant something and what didn't. I simply climbed higher. Do you remember that I told you I saw a great deal of myself in you?"

Andy nodded, not trusting her voice enough to answer.

"I was wrong. You might never turn out as successful as me, because you're too emotional, too caring. I can't claim to have those flaws. But you can turn out _happy_. A flaw I envy. Also, Andrea? Look at me".

Andy reluctantly obeyed, knowing she was a mess to look at, but unable to resist Miranda's demands.

"I never intended for you to publish any of this. I didn't think you would. I only wanted to know if you really are like me. I am pleased to see you're not".

"I don't understand why you told me these things".

"Do you want me to explain to you actions I cannot explain to myself? Frankly, Andrea, I don't know. I don't know why I did this. I honestly don't know".

_Oh, but you do. You're trying to scare her away for good, wiping that little spark away from her eyes, making her understand that you're a danger to yourself and everybody around you. Most of all, you're telling yourself that you don't deserve the good things life could offer – only the hurt. She's crying over your wounds, and you're _still_ intent on pushing her away. _

"How badly did he hurt you, Miranda?" Andy asked. Miranda took a step back, surprised at the question.

"I healed", Miranda said curtly.

"No, you didn't", Andy whispered and raised a hand, slowly, at which Miranda recoiled. "See? You thought I was going to hit you".

"I thought no such thing".

"I'm so sorry, Miranda. I'm so sorry people have hurt you, and I'm even sorrier that you won't let anyone undo some of that damage".

"It can't be undone".

"No, I can't take away the handprints people left on your skin. But if you let me, I could take away some of that self-despise you have inside. I promise that I won't tear down your façade among other people, but if you let me in I can hold you inside of all those walls and armours".

"And why on Earth would you want to do something like that? Didn't you tell me you have nightmares about me?"

"I never told you what they were _about_. Well… I don't think I should, either. At least not right now. But what made them nightmares wasn't the fact that you said my name. It was what you said before it".

"And what did I say before it?"

"Goodbye".

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes in confusion.

"This doesn't make any sense to me. You need to be very clear right now, because I don't know how many riddles I'm able to solve this very night; I'm very tired. Are you saying that you… care about me?"

"Oh yes, I do! So much!"

Her heart leapt at the words, but it could still be a misinterpretation.

"Tell me exactly how you feel. Please".

"I'm in love with you, Miranda. I want to make you happy. I want to be there for you, protecting you, caring about you, loving you, always. I want to be there to tell you how beautiful you are, every moment of every day. I want to touch you and kiss you, so gently you can barely feel it, so that you will never feel pressured or threatened, and I want to…"

Miranda cut her off when she heard her own desires reflected in the girl's voice.

"That's all".

She went to sit down again, shaking her head slowly.

"You turn my world upside down, Andrea. You have from the very moment I first saw you. I have always found myself so confused, so puzzled, around you. I have never considered myself to be a lesbian, but it seems, labels put aside, that what I've been feeling for you is infatuation. I… I…" she shrugged, and laughed. It had a touch of hysteria in it. "I don't know what I'm feeling from one moment to the next. I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad".

"You've tried really hard to scare me away. You almost succeeded once. It's not going to work again. I'm just telling you". Andy dared to sit down beside Miranda. "Please. Let me in. I won't hurt you".

Miranda literally felt her walls of ice starting to crumble and fall. Years of longing and suppressed emotions welled up inside her and she pulled Andy close, desperately seeking an anchor and found it in Andy's arms. Their first kiss was like being born again, and it tasted salt, from tears. Miranda didn't know if they were hers or Andrea's or a combination of both, but they didn't taste like defeat, they tasted like a second chance.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**

Wow, it took some time before this little epilogue thingie got written. Frankly I had almost forgotten all about the story when I was notified that someone had favourited it. Then I remembered that it still existed, and that I had promised to write another piece on it. It's not very long, and it's not very eventful either, but it's something, at least. So, here we go. :) Thank you everybody for your sweet comments and encouragment!

* * *

**Fourteen months later...**

"Are you sure about this?" Andy asked.

"Darling, I have never been more sure about anything in my life", Miranda replied.

"But if we come out as a couple, so to speak, the paparazzi are going to kill you. More or less literally. They won't stop hunting you down".

Miranda's lips widened to a smile, and then to a grin.

"Andrea, _I'm_ used to deal with those predators. _You_, however, will get a nasty surprise when you realize just how intent they are on bringing you down. Everything you do, say, wear, will be on the front of the tabloids for a long time. Are you sure _you_ can handle that?"

"That's the price to pay to be in your life?"

Miranda nodded, a sad look dancing in her eyes.

"Then that's a price I'm happy to pay. Besides, Miranda, I'm not _that_ oblivious of paparazzi, I did work for you. I went everywhere with you. Into the flashing lights too", she said in a joking manner, but Miranda didn't laugh.

"We _could_ keep hiding this, if you want to. We could. It's just that I don't feel like it's appropriate to hide you. You are not some dirty little secret I keep, you are my one true love and I want to show the world how happy you make me. We're not doing anything wrong, and I see no reason for us to hide just because some people won't approve, and some people might poke fun. That's all. And I see nothing wrong in showing people this way."

"Shock treatment style?" Andy asked, grinning as she adjusted the belt to her long red Valentino dress.

"Shock treatment style", Miranda agreed.

"Coming out at the Elias Clarke New Year's Party. It's either brilliant or insane", Andy mused.

"Brilliant, of course, it's my idea".

"Oh, would you just listen to her Patricia, she's getting all smug now, pretending that she hasn't been nervous all day".

The Sankt Bernard raised her head when she heard her name, huffed, and went back to sleep. Miranda's eyes softened as she looked at her dog, and if she hadn't already put on her dress she would have hunkered next to the giant furball and patted her. Instead, she caressed Andrea's hair, marvelling at how much better life felt when you had someone to share it with – someone who wanted to share it with _you_.

"I _am_ nervous, Andrea. I'm not going to lie. I'm so nervous I would have chewed on my fingernails if I hadn't had a manicure just yesterday. And you know what? If I had simply decided to bring a woman to escort me, I wouldn't have been nervous at all. But I'm not being escorted by any woman; I am being escorted by the only woman, the only _individual_, who has ever had my heart in a firm grasp".

"Aww…" Andy took Miranda's hand and laced their fingers together. "I love you. Don't ever doubt that, you hear me? It's not just you and me anymore, it's us. If others can't take it, well… who gives a shit?"

She kissed Miranda's cheek, carefully so not to smear her lipstick all over her lover's skin.

"Just one more thing" Miranda said, "I know some of the paparazzi and the regular reporters as well will deliver snide comments about 'latest accessory' or 'midlife crisis', some may even hint at you being a call girl, I'm sorry to say. I honestly don't care what they say about _me_, but they are _not_ allowed to say anything nasty about you. That is an offense I won't overlook. It will end in lawsuits and they won't get away with it, I guarantee you that, but be prepared, they will say horrible things. Some of them always do".

"I love you, and they don't know what we have, or how we feel. They're unlucky enough to never find out, so let's leave it at that, okay? Let's not read the tabloids at all".

"Have we ever?"

"Will we ever?"

They smiled. For the first time in her life, Miranda felt as though her past really was left behind her. It had taken love, the cliché unconditional true love, to drag her up from the fears that clung to her from the past, and help her move on. Move forward. Feeling alive once more.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Irv is going to have a seizure when he sees us", Miranda said happily as she put on her diamond necklace. "I suppose it's possible that poor Emily will too, which doesn't please me as much, though", she added and sighed.

"Don't worry, that little potential scare has been taken care of. Emily knows. I told her last weekend, after you told Donatella. I thought Em might need some time to deal with it, but she actually just heaved a sigh and said 'about bloody time'. She's engaged to Serena now, by the way".

"She is? They make a beautiful couple", Miranda commented, deep in thought. "Perhaps for the next issue of Runway, we could crush the myth that all lesbians look like men, and feature some fabulously beautiful lady-lady couples…"

Andy smiled and offered her arm.

"I'm sure that will be a very beautiful feature, but right now, I would like to escort the _most_ fabulously beautiful lady in the world, to the car that has been waiting outside for nearly half an hour by now."

Miranda took her arm and smiled.

"I love you Andrea".

"I love you too, Miranda. And trust me. Nothing can change that".


End file.
